Today I sat at my father’s secretary desk and hand wrote notes on a stack of computer generated Christmas newsletters. The composition was a short here’s where we are now summary instead of an exhaustive 2012 in review. From using Christmas letterhead so old it was not designed to go through a printer, to sticking stamps on envelopes, the exercise had a blast from the past feel. Who does this anymore? And, what can I say people haven’t already seen on Facebook?

Of course, not everyone on my Christmas card list is on Facebook. It’s a precious list, actually. I’m tempted to print out another set of labels and do a timeline with them. You know you’ve lived some when your list includes: childhood friends; college roommates; people your husband served with in the military; neighbors from every city you ever lived in; colleagues from every job you ever held; and the few nonagenarians left in your family. I regret my list does not include all the interesting people I’ve met in my travels.

Why stay in touch with people who have drifted out of our orbit? I think these people give us context. They remind us of who we were. They are a touchstone for where we are now in life. We rejoice with those who are reaping the rewards of years of hard work—travel, grandchildren, vacation homes. We weep with those who are suffering—illness, pain and loss. Often, these can’t be captured in a posting. They are revealed over decades of annual letters, appended with hand-written notes.